My name ain’t Rio…
But I’m feelin’ very Brazilian, or at least a certain part of me is. (hint, hint) There are many pros to this newfound freedom. I am now unconstricted. Velcro is my friend once more. No longer do I shy away from the maxi pad aisle. I can use adhesives without hesitation. Better than that I can now avoid the senseless squirm when my hubby decides to travel to exotic locations. The beaches have not only been combed they have been sandblasted.
The cons. For a solid two days after my newfound freedom my ‘lips’ were swollen. Can I just say ouch and get a hug? The incredible lengths we as women go to will never cease to amaze me. If I’m not plucking, I’m waxing, or sanding it (yes, you read that right). I’m Italian, why is it that I feel the need to fight nature? And what do you use to ease the discomfort? Chap stick? Utter cream? Can you approach the pharmacist with a stratight face? “Excuse me, Sir…my lips are chapped… can you help me?” Do you then have to elaborate further?
Do men go through this? NO! Do I have penis envy now? If it would ease the pain I would take one, thank you! ROFLMAO! I have no clue what I would do with it, and I’m thinking that my aim wouldn’t be so good.
Hmm, moral to the story is that a tropical trip is a wonderful experience and can leave you feeling ultra sexy or utlra sore. Roll the dice, baby!
Mandy
(who is now wondering how long it will be before her mother calls to yell at her for writing this on the internet)
